
wwy i * 


■ytaui njj . ' a, ' <%. >:.p 



f ' ; 

i 


■FFt * Jr V xm /ll jj 




r 9 

■r-r^si 

'i$L>I m # m 





r-- -1.1 

,.i v ’ Wv 





t. • 


^ *• ' vi 

1 ? 1 • w 1 







JuW.. -y| ^i T J 



^ _^F •'->■■ - 



j|g£d 




































U*a i4 
J 




a yu 


£. r/ / 


ARDEN WEYMOUTH 


BY 


DAYTON 

V 


/ 

ERVIN A 



SOUVENIR EDITION 


Eighteen hundred and ninety-nine 


‘Printed by C. C P. SPENCER 
Brattleboro, Vermont 






TWO COPIES RECEIVED 

Ub o f ?, cf 

Office 10 f the 

r J 8 - 18.9.9 

Res ' sler of c »PyHghf a 


7 $ 

_T74," AS 



Copyright /8qq, by Charles P. Spencer 









SECOND OOP*. 


wA(V\3 Y\ « 





ARDEN WEYMOUTH 


I 

^^HE crimson flush of sunset lights the western sky, 

Outlines the grave old mountain rising grand and high ; 
Down on the meadow hillside the farmer’s buildings stand, 
The long, low house, the barns and sheds on either hand. 

In this New England kitchen, homelike, quaint and old, 

In pensive silence stands a youth of manly mould; 

The ling’ring rays of sunset crown his head with light, 

And bring a face with clear-cut features to the sight. 

While standing by the window looking toward the west 
He feels the sunset’s beauty in his youthful breast; 

The great, grand future is before him in a dream, 

And fills his soul with courage from hope’s flowing stream; 
Anticipations which remain in thought untold, 

Too lofty in their aspirations, and too bold 

For humble youth to dare express to dearest friends, 

Are his, and mark the goal toward which he proudly tends. 



Another pleasing picture comes to greet him now : 

A maiden fair with handsome eyes and marble brow 
Before him moves with stately presence which commands, 

And lends the lover’s charm the present spell demands ; 

But sounds of foot-steps and his father’s voice dispel 
His twilight visions, and again lie’s home to dwell; 

For this is Arden’s home, where first he saw the light, 

And where his childhood found this little world was bright. 
His quiet life has passed upon this mountain-side 
Until he stands the stalwart man, his mother’s pride, 

And few the times he’s left his father’s farm to go 
Beyond the nearest village, some five miles below. 

The still late hours had come at night, and all around 
Had found repose. The midnight stillness hears no sound 
Except the muffled bark of a dog beyond the hill; 

But now the bark has ceased, and silence has its will. 

The moon lights up the earth with silv’ry mellow light, 

And shows the country village clearly to the sight, 

Where Arden went to school. The large, white tavern stands 
The central figure of the village, and commands 
Attention by its quaint and solemn look with tall 
Large columns rising there in front, which lend withal 
The antique grandeur which this grave old inn displays, 


Where slumber has its inmates in a darksome maze; 

The dwellings scattered here and there along the street, 

The blacksmith shop, the country store, all clearly meet 
The eye which wanders o’er this fairy moonlight scene. 

Then back upon the hill the church looks down serene 
Upon the town below, with admonition stern, # 

That worldly follies run at such a pace by turn. 

Here, near the "common” with shady trees and plot of grass, 

% 

The play-ground where the youth their games pursue and pass 
So many happy hours, is a cottage trim and neat, 

Where widow Vaughn abides and finds a snug retreat 
In this her home, with but a daughter tall and fair, 

On whom to rest her hopes and place her watchful care. 

’Tis Arden Weymouth and Maletta Vaughn who stand 
Upon the cottage porch and view the scene at hand 
With all its dreamland beauty. Now, the parting’s here, 

And years may pass before they meet again they fear; 

Already Arden’s tender thoughts of love have found 
Expression in low impassioned words which made a sound 
Of harshness to his ears, for thought alone can know 
The beauty of love’s fair pictures tinged with hope’s bright glow. 
How oft before his anxious heart had found a task 
As thought would come, that he must speak his love and ask 
The testing question, leaving fate to tell the tale 


Of vict’ry or defeat. But what could it avail 
To speak when her indifference was made to seem 
A sure defeat, and fretful thoughts had spoiled his dream ? 
To-night while standing there so near departure’s brink, 
Maletta heard the low toned voice and felt the link 
Of love hold stronger to her heart; and then she said 
With placid mien and beaming eyes, 'Til sometime wed, 
And, Arden dear, I love you.” Then a flood of joy 
Filled Arden’s heart, which knew no bounds and no alloy. 
But stop ! Emotions of the heart are never known 
To words, for even thought can’t claim them as its own. 


Tomorrow, Arden leaves his home and friends behind 
To seek the great and newly settled West, to find 
A fortune and a home. The buoyancy of youth 
Impels him from his native hills to roam, in truth, 

Where larger fields of action show their broad expanse 
And give to strength and courage quick and sure advance. 
His parting words have all been said to friends around, 
And but the inmates of his home shall now be found 
To join the last farewell. And soon it came, and he 
Had said his last good-bye, and started out to see 
What the great world would offer him, and large indeed 


It seemed, as thought extended to the time of need, 
And never had he felt so small, nor would he own 
The shrinking which he felt as he went forth alone. 


II 

We hear the sound of building making noise so rife 
In frontier settlements, when stirred with bustling life, 
And see the prospective city grow before our eyes 
As if some magic power coming from the skies 
Was acting here below. A wildness marks the place, 

For all is rough and new that shows a welcome trace 
Of man’s transforming hand. The first time Arden stood 
And gazed upon this rough hewn town he felt he could 
Not stay and find in it a home. A homesick gloom 
Spread o’er him like the dark subduing cloud of doom. 
But energetic life dispelled the sick’ning chill, 

And he went forth to act with set, determined will. 

Out toward the west the prairie lies in broad expanse, 
While close beside us to the east there’s no advance, 

For there the river deep and dark its downward course 
Is flowing. Here the humble frontier town with force 



For future greatness, standing by the river’s route, 
Consists of block-front wooden buildings built to suit 
The present needs. Six months ago a trapper’s hut 
Comprised man’s habitation here, with no one but 
The Indians to befriend its one lone occupant; 

But now five hundred souls reside upon this grant, 

The sound of many tongues is heard upon the street, 
Each indicating where his home was left to meet 
Improved conditions in a new and untilled land. 

A thrill of progress marks the place ; on ev’ry hand 
Is seen the onward move; the governmental plan 
With Mayor brusque and City Council, shows this van 
Of civilization fraught with aspirations bold 
To push the present life beyond the plodding hold 
Of old conservatism. 

Without profession or trade 

Young Weymouth sought employment in the line to aid 
A business course; And soon the speculative move 
In business life had set on fire his mind to prove 
His skill for gaining wealth by open-handed deal, 
Without the shade of bald deceit or legal steal. 

The "boom” was on, and real estate was flying high ; 
Town lots were made the all absorbing thing to buy, 


And each succeeding day advanced the price they brought. 
^Vherever you might go you’d hear discussed the lot 
Of some good portion of the town though miles away, 
Perhaps, from actual occupation. Progress lay 
Its path within this growing place, and men seemed mad, 
For, swept along the current of the reckless fad 
Of purchase, they had counted gain by thousands which 
Had served to stimulate the craze of getting rich, 

So prevalent in men’s minds hbre. And Arden knew 
His gain by sale and purchase was excelled by few 
Who here had chanced the rise and fall in land estate, 

Until, in his old home the time-worn relative '"great” 
Described his wealth. But then there came the blighting lull 
Which always follows speculative growth, and dull, 

Hard times were there. The rapid growth this city made 
Had gone beyond the country round, so now it laid 
Its "boom” aside to wait the farmer’s stead}^ tread, 

With slower pace than here, we find, has just been sped, 

To help it on. The city property was down, 

No buyers now were known to those who owned the town 
In large proportions. Arden, like so many, found 
His all invested where there was no sight nor sound 
Of present realization. With the weight of debt 
Secured by mortgage on his lands, he worked and met 


His obligations as lie could, and sought to save 

From out the wreck some vestige of the prosp’rous wave ; 

The taxes and assessments wished to swallow all, 

And interest of highest rates made frequent call. 

As time went by with losses here and losses there, 

He still toiled on, and spent much time with anxious care. 

Life’s troubles come not single-handed and alone, 

For each sore grievance others finds to weigh like stone 
Upon the hearts of poor unfortunates. And so 
We find in Arden’s life that troubles come and go 
In clusters. Hardly had his business course become 

i i 

To be so trying, when a crushing letter from 
The East had filled his heart with anguish ; ever since 
He left Maletta on that gladsome night the glimpse 
Of future happiness had grown more fair to him, 

And furnished inspiration when all else seemed dim; 

But now this letter granted unto him a choice 
Which set at war at once his love with manhood’s voice. 
When first he read those sick’ning words he felt a daze 
Creep over him, as though a nightmare filled with haze 
His consciousness. It could not be that this was true, 
That love’s fair hopes and joys and fears had said adieu; 
And yet, before him lay the letter just received, 


Which spoke these words that made his heart so sadly grieve: 
"You seem to count your love a minor thing, and hold 
That business first of all must have the right to fold 
You in its strong embrace. If this is true then stav 
Upon those wilds, but I’ll not come to be a prey 
Of homesick gloom. You cannot count it strange that now, 
In view of business failure and our youthful vow, 

I want my freedom, or that you return and make 
Your home among these hills,vand this for my own sake.” 

This sudden thrust had pinned him to his chair, and there 
He sat with limsy form and strange, bewildered stare; 

He heard no sound except the beating of his heart 
With throbs which echoed in his breast and seemed apart 
From his life’s action. Long he sat there, but how long 
He did not know; he only knew that pressing throng 
Of ceaseless thoughts which filled his heart with anguish ; o’er 
And o’er again they came, those sick’ning words which bore 
The weight of darkest woe, all through that sleepless night 
Which followed. "Oh, I cannot bear this awful blight 
Of love !” he mourned; "Maletta, ah, my all, take back 
Those cruel words and be my love again !” But lack 
Of man’s endurance long to suffer pain without 
Relief, at last found help from facts that surged about 
His mind. No longer did she love him, plainly spoke 


The voice of reason, as his consciousness awoke. 

A wealthy rival, favored by her mother’s will, 

Was mirrored in his mind; and then his heart was still; 
For surely she had never hinted thoughts before, 

That his prospective future held but good in store. 

His late reverses shattered love that was not strong; 

Now came a revelation hard to bear; ’twas long 
He pondered over this, in short, until he saw 
In his mind’s eye, without an intervening flaw, 

This letter in the light of shadoAvy excuse 

Which told his heart and pride that they had had abuse ; 

Then broke the cord of love and he was free again. 

Without a pang of sad regret he took his pen 

To write the asked release; for he, perchance, had found 

That resignation heals the heart’s most painful wound. 


Ill 

A city of a hundred thousand meets the gaze, 

The streets are filled with people rushing many ways, 
Each one intent on his own purpose. Buildings tall 
And massive rise above the lower plane of all 



The common structures round, and soar at dizzy heights 
Beyond the use of bygone years. The forward flights 
Of fancy twenty years ago, when Arden came 
To make this place his home, could not have seen the same 
As now it stands, a city rich, progressive, grand, 

The active center of a new and fertile land. 

Above the noble river flowing broad and deep, 

Along a sightly bluff descending sharp and steep 
Down to the water’s edge, are seen in proud array 
The large and stately mansions, homes of wealth, folks say 
And from its elevation, looking to the right, 

The city lies below, and makes a pleasing sight 
When ev’ning comes with all its brilliant street-lights’ glare 
As Arden Weymouth looks from this his mansion fair. 
Considered as a whole, in Arden’s life we find 
A score of prosp’rous years have just been left behind ; 
Besides success in business enterprise he found 
Domestic joys which in a happy home abound. 

’Tis not first love, but true, that holds time’s endless line, 
And grows, in absence or in presence, more divine ; 

Too often fancy fills the place that love should own, 

For think you that all loves are fancies not outgrown ? 


Think what you will, but loving’s more than cunning art 
That moves with vulgar motives actions of the heart. 

Yes, Arden has a love to cheer his daily life, 

And fondly knows her by the loving name of wife ; 

Her gentle, winsome nature full of love and grace, 

With form petite and sunshine beaming from her face, 

Makes her the idol of his heart. To his strong will 
She freely yields, yet sweetly chides and conquers still. 

A winter’s ev’ning at the Weymouth home is here, 

And sleep has hushed the youthful voices of their cheer. 
While father ’nd mother sit there by the glowing grate 
As bed-time’s hour arrives. "Well, dearest, it is late,” 

At last she said, and broke his pensive, musing spell 

Which left his book unread and took his mind to dwell 

In scenes of time gone past. Half conscious that she spoke, 

"Is it?” he answered listlessly, and then awoke 

From sweet-spelled dreaminess to thus in substance speak: 

"I’ve wandered o’er my native hills again, to seek 

The haunts I loved in my young days, while sitting here ; 

On many early autumn morns, of fog or clear, 

I’ve sought the chestnut wood to hunt for squirrels there, 

And stopped in silence waiting their approach to share 


The shot-gun’s charge; and then from out the little brook, 
Which down the hillside runs with sudden plunge and crook 
Within the large north pasture, many strings of trout 
I’ve caught on low’ry days, when work was stopped without. 
Ah, yes ! the colts I trained, the steers I broke, come back 
In oft recurring incidents, and do not lack 
The fresh remembrance of events of yesterday, 

But grow more near and dear the farther they’re away. 
Unchanged before me now the dear old homestead stands 
Amid the pastured hills, upon green meadow lands; 

And though there’ve been sad changes in the flight of years, 
And death has done its work and blurred that home with tears, 
When spring-time comes again I’ll venture then to roam 
Those hills which rise around my old Green Mountain home.” 

But now we’ll leave our friends to seek their night’s repose, 
And also to the future with its joys and woes. 




) 


8 1899 





I 







































